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| I
remember my best friend when I was little.
Her name was Mary Ellen, but I called her Obea. Don’t
ask me why. It’s one of those crazy toddler language
things.
Before
I moved away from Poughkeepsie, NY, Mary Ellen (on the right)
and I were inseparable. I was the brave, adventurous one,
Mary Ellen, the meek one. Even though she lives in Florida
with her family and I live in California, we're still great
friends. |
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I
remember moving into this house in Vermont in February 1966.
The road was dirt, but the house was brand new. My mom had
to drive me to the bus stop on my first day of first grade
in my new school. We were living in a motel until we could
move into the house. See the trees all around the sides and
back of the house? My dad and I planted every one of them!
My parents still live in this house. |
I remember moving from upstate New York to Vermont when I was
in first grade. My friends and I constantly dreamed up contests.
Who was the best at Red Rover? Who could save the most eraser
crumbs? Who was the tallest? Who was the fastest? For a long
time, I was the tallest girl and the fastest runner. Now, I
am neither of those things. |
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In middle school, I was considered a nerd. Translated: I loved
books and I was smart. I liked French, chorus, and playing
the guitar. I had my first boyfriend in 8th grade. We “went
out”. We never actually went anywhere because we had
no money and neither of us could drive, but we “went
out” just the same. Middle school was the first time
we had to change for gym class. I remember one-piece, knit
gym suits—light blue shorts with blue and white horizontal
stripes on the top. Good grief!
I
found sports during high school—field hockey, track
(where I learned I was no longer the fastest girl), and tennis.
I tried out for the basketball team, but was cut when the
coach figured out I couldn’t do a lay-up. I still can’t
do a lay-up.
I
spent three weeks in France on an exchange program. I lived
with a family and spoke French all the time. After supper
one night, I wanted to say, “Thank you. I am full.”
I translated it literally—“Merci. Je suis plein,”
which means “I am pregnant.” It might surprise
you to learn I was the recipient of the French Department
award. |
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At Cornell University,
I blossomed. I took Italian, French literature, children’s
literature, plus all the required classes for my child development
major. I student-taught a fourth grade class and a second
grade class. I loved everything about college—even the
weather. (During my freshman year, it rained every day in
October!) I didn’t want college to end, and still read
the summer course catalog for fun classes to take.
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Graduation
Day, May 1981 |
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Ken
and I are all gussied up for a formal
party in 1990 thrown by his law firm at
the time. |
I
also met my husband at Cornell. For our first date, he called
to tell me I’d won first prize in a contest—dancing
with Ken Newman. I asked him what second prize was. Luckily,
he has a sense of humor. He’s funny, charming, and a great
card player. Unlike my first boyfriend, Ken and I could drive
and we had some money. On dates, we usually spent his poker
winnings, and each time silently thanked his fraternity brothers
for being such lousy card players. |
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Right after college I taught remedial math to high school
students in rural Virginia. During my eighth grade homeroom,
I wrote my name on the board (I’m 100% Italian with
a difficult-to-pronounce maiden name) and talked about homeroom
etiquette. One brave soul raised his hand and said in his
thick southern drawl, “Ms. Iafrate, you have the prettiest
brown eyes, but we can’t understand a word you’re
sayin’.” Another child asked me if I was a Yankee.
After
two years of rock-bottom wages, I started work as a programmer
for a computer software company. I traveled everywhere fixing
computer problems and selling software—Maryland, North
Carolina, Texas, South Dakota, Hawaii, Illinois, Kansas,
even Alaska in January. Somewhere in the midst of all that
traveling, Ken and I got married and moved to California.
I reunited with Cornell as the Assistant Director of its
western regional office, visiting with prospective students,
asking alumni for money, and planning alumni activities.
I stopped working when Elise was born, and started writing
after Scott was born.
I’ve
written about several topics—Navajo Code Talkers,
a girl who wants to save the Costa Rican rain forest, children’s
authors, the railroad, and a boy who had a brain tumor.
I feel fortunate to have a terrific writing support group.
First, my critique group partners read everything I write—even
this bio. Next, my agent submits my manuscripts to publishers
who will (hopefully) buy them.
Volunteering
in Elise and Scott’s classrooms provides excellent
raw material for fiction and nonfiction. I use their gossip,
their teachers, their friends, their projects—nothing’s
safe! I love molding ideas into stories and articles for
kids. I write when my kids are at school. I write during
my son’s karate class and during my daughter’s
tennis lesson. I think about writing almost all the time.
I usually solve story problems in my sleep or in the shower.
My desk is always a mess. My file drawers are filled to
bursting with ideas and manuscripts. Children’s books
are piled everywhere. But I wouldn’t have it any other
way!
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My dog Jingles. My kids picked her name because she was a
Christmas present and they wanted to celebrate the acceptance
of my first book, Jingle the Brass.
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| My
kids, Elise and Scott |
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©2004-2010
Patricia M.
Newman
Illustrations
by Elise Newman
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